


Alpha Matters

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill rescues a bit of grey fluff from the bushes. Maybe it was altruistic; maybe he just likes to accessorize.</p><p>Tom isn't thrilled with the idea of adopting another pet, and neither are their dogs, but his first mistake is thinking his opinion matters.</p><p>His last is in trying to assert it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alpha Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Written a long time ago for an anonymous kinkmeme that I barely remember! The prompt was "Bill brings home a kitten and chaos ensues," basically. :D

It was Tom who first heard the faint, mewling cries from nearby foliage and brought it to Bill's attention. He'd been expecting nothing more than for Bill to notify animal control, perhaps, or have one of their assistants corral the little beast, get it out of their bushes, and move on with their lives.

He was not expecting to be sitting in their living room petting two dogs' ears in futile reassurance as Bill held a small grey scrap of fluff to his cheek. Both cat and twin were giving Tom wide, woeful eyes.

"We can't keep it, Bill," Tom said for the third time.

Bill pushed out his lower lip in a slight, expert pout. The kitten's eyes grew even wider.

"Bill," Tom tried again. "We're dog people. Remember? We don't...we don't get on well with cats. We can't keep it."

"You're heartless!" Bill stated, leveling a slate-grey fingernail at him. "How can you say no to something this small and cute and helpless, Tom? I can't believe I'm twinned to someone with such a cold, miserly heart." He held up the kitten in one hand, turning his head and brushing his mouth over one furry little ear.

The kitten gave a squeaky little mew.

As with most arguments in their life, Tom sighed and gave in to the inevitable.

***

The reign of grey-striped terror was on. The very second day of the hostile occupation, Tom stumbled down with an unlit cigarette in his mouth to feed the dogs, found that Hurricane Bill had already been through the kitchen judging by the explosion of juice and slopped milk and stray cornflakes, and discovered three out of four dogs sitting back in a horrified support circle as the kitten wallowed bodily in the largest bowl of kibble.

"What's going on here?" Tom muttered, leaning down to give an encouraging pat to their German shorthair. He tilted his head up and whined at Tom, cocking an ear back. "Come on, guys, it's okay to eat your food. It's only a kitten."

Tom stroked their backs and ears, urging them forward.

The moment one large paw neared the grey kitten, it flattened its little ears, tilted its enormous eyes up, and hissed between its teeth at them all.

All three dogs skittered back, their claws scrabbling over the tile, as Tom gaped.

"You know you're bigger than that little ball of fluff, right?" Tom called after them, shaking his head. "I didn't raise a bunch of sissies!"

None of the dogs looked back as they fled.

***

"Bill," Tom tried, on the third day. "You know we can't keep it, right? Maybe we can give it to Mom?"

A dark head lifted, and Bill brushed long strands of hair over his shorter, shaved side hair. "What? Tom, you're talking about a member of our family, now!"

As Tom approached the couch, he found that his brother was cuddling a dackel on one thigh, and the kitten was snuggled in a ball of willowy grey fur against his other. It was purring loudly enough that Tom could hear the rumble-burr of its contentedness. He tried to marshal his arguments again, but the kitten yawned at that very second, exposing a flash of pink gums, teeny needle teeth, and a strip of curling pink tongue.

"Oh..." Tom faltered.

"See?" Bill said triumphantly, scooping up the fluffball in one hand and lifting it up, nuzzling the kitten to one cheek.

"It's very cute, but..."

"She."

"Excuse me?"

"She's very cute," Bill corrected.

Tom groaned. "You know it's a she? No, Bill, just...next thing I know, you'll be..."

"Her name is Mieke," Bill told him, rubbing the kitten to his cheek. She purred yet more loudly.

"...naming her," Tom finished weakly. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go – they weren't supposed to get attached!

"I've asked Silke to pick up some things," Bill continued, waving a hand and patting their dackel, who craned her head over one shoulder to give Tom wide, forlorn eyes. Her tail thumped sadly against Bill's side. "You know, cat things. I think they play with string, fake mice, that sort of thing."

Tom began to back up as the sense of impending doom closed in around him. "I'm gonna go walk our dogs," he said, and told himself it wasn't retreating.

***

The next day Tom walked in to the living room to find Scotty cornered by the kitten.

"Oh, come on," Tom said with exasperation, leaning down to pick Mieke up to let Scotty pass on his way to the kitchen. "Did Bill give you that sense of entitlement, or were you born with it like him?"

"I heard that!" Bill called from the downstairs bathroom.

"Meant you to," Tom mumbled, but he didn't have the courage to say _that_ loud enough for Bill to hear. He scooped Mieke up and Scotty trotted gratefully past, nosing Tom's leg as he brushed by, tail resuming its cheerful wag.

The kitten wrapped every single leg she had around Tom's wrist, curled her tail around Tom's forearm for good measure, and chomped down on his pulse point with vigorous needle teeth.

"Fucking hell!" Tom howled, trying to drop the kitten, but she was latched on tightly.

"Tommm, be sweet to her!" Bill yelled.

"She's biting the shit out of me!" Tom yelled back, shaking his arm. The kitten made a peculiar little growl-purring sort of noise and worried her teeth around her mouthful of Tom.

"Well, then you must have provoked her!" Bill called back unsympathetically.

Tom tried to pry her up with his other hand. Mieke gave another squeaky little growl and latched onto his finger instead, her kicking back legs scraping painfully over his forearm.

"Biiiiill, come get your cat!" Tom cried, doing his best to extract the kitten from her determined clutch around his arm.

There was a clack of heels, and Bill was moving toward him with purposeful strides. "God, Tom, don't be such a sissy," his brother chided him with a snort. "It's just a kitten. _Our_ kitten."

"I've got nothing to do with this demonic little spitfire," Tom vowed, striding off to go find their dogs and reassure them that he, at least, still loved them.

"Tom!" Bill cried out, sounding distressed. "You've disowned a member of our family; how could you?"

"Ugh," Tom responded, and made a strategic retreat once more. "I'm going out for a smoke."

***

Two days later, Tom woke up with striped cat butt on his face.

"This has to stop," he groaned, picking up the fluffball, who gave him a squeaky little growl and latched onto his knuckle. "What do you want? Are you hungry? Are you getting bored of showing the dogs who's boss, and moving on to tougher game?"

Mieke ignored him in favor of worrying at his knuckle until he winced.

This time, instead of trying to pry her off by main force, he stroked her little ears. She settled down and began to lick determinedly at his finger, as though she were trying to sand his skin right off.

Tom shifted onto his side and petted Mieke until she curled up into a compact little ball, nestling herself beside his stomach and nudging his skin with a cold, wet nose. Tom flinched but kept petting her as the steady purr started up, loud as a miniature buzz-saw.

He shook his head with the faintest of sighs, so as not to disturb her. Mieke's tiny paws were kneading and clutching at his abs, and she was pricking his skin with her pin-sharp kitten claws, but her little pads were pressed so firmly against him that he didn't have the heart to disengage her.

As with Bill, it seemed there had never been any question in Mieke's head as to who was boss.

Bill appeared in the open doorway as though he'd been summoned, arms akimbo, fully dressed and already prepared to face the day. "Ah," he said, his tone approving. "I knew everything would be okay if she gave you a chance."

"I gave her a chance," Tom mumbled, but his twin was already off and moving.

He looked down at the kitten. Mieke cracked one eye at him and curled up even tighter, as though to say, we're not moving any time soon.

"Suits me," Tom muttered, and tucked a careful hand over the kitten, cupping her against his belly.

***

Three days later, Tom ventured into the living room to find their German shorthair laid down beside Mieke. The kitten was pouncing the big boy, latching on to one floppy ear and hanging from their dog. The dog gave Tom big, mournful eyes and Mieke emitted her squeaky little growl, letting go to plop down beside the dog. Tom's dog lowered his head until one ear dangled within range, and Mieke launched herself again.

Tom laughed, shook his head and kept moving. It would all work out somehow.


End file.
